


we shall be monsters

by Mertiya



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Explicit Consent, F/M, Femdom, I've only finished Route A so I had to write something non-plotty, Life-Affirming Sex, Light Dom/sub, Missing Scene, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 06:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13405197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: “I need—” she pauses again, tilting her head down towards him, then gently, almost questioningly, puts both hands on his shoulders and steers him towards her.  Nines lets her, unquestioning, and she bends over a little to press her lips to his, clumsy but seeking.





	we shall be monsters

“It is true, we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another.” --Mary Shelley, _Frankenstein_

            It’s been three days since they last returned to the Bunker, and Nines is exhausted. All he wants is to rest and maybe clean himself off, but somehow it’s not so much the physical dirt that’s wearing on him—they found the last of the three photographs for the Resistance member today. All three locations were honestly beautiful, but when she regained her memories—well, at least she seemed happy, he supposes.

            He sinks down onto his bed and stares at his feet. It’s hard to see death all around you so often. It’s the price of war, of course, but this isn’t the first time Nines finds himself wondering what they’re buying. At one level, he knows that this was easier when he _didn’t_ have a partner. When he hadn’t watched 2B’s lifeless body crumple to the ground so many times, always with the little touch of fear—would this be the time something went wrong with her mental transfer? Would this be the last he would ever see of her? He’s not much of a fighter, but it doesn’t stop him from being reckless, from trying to put himself between her and danger, because he _knows_ he can make it back. Nines is good at making it back—occasionally minus a memory or two, but that’s a small price to pay to avoid the fear he feels otherwise.

            A clattering against the stone makes him look up. 2B is standing in the doorway, and the noise was the noise of her sword falling from a loose hand. She looks exhausted, her usually well-kempt hair sticking up in several places, and her arms drooping uselessly at her sides. “9S?” she says, voice rising as if she’s asking a question, and then she halts, as if she isn’t certain what the question should be.

            Something pulls him to his aching feet and across the room towards her. “Do you need anything?” he asks. “We could go back to the Bunker. You look like you could use a rest somewhere, uh, quieter. More private.”

            “I need—” she pauses again, tilting her head down towards him, then gently, almost questioningly, puts both hands on his shoulders and steers him towards her. Nines lets her, unquestioning, and she bends over a little to press her lips to his, clumsy but seeking.

            Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. There’s been a growing quiet camaraderie between the two of them, and Nines would be lying if he didn’t say he found 2B attractive, but this is definitely new. Or maybe not—she’s so carefully controlled most of the time that who knows what’s bubbling around in her head? Whatever it is, he wants this with every fiber of his being, but he doesn’t know how to say that. She’s so tentative, and he doesn’t want to frighten her off.

            Before he can come to a conclusion, something breaks. The tentativeness vanishes, and 2B’s hands become insistent. She turns him, pushes him back against the wall faster than he expects, and then her hands are underneath his thighs, hoisting him up, lips on his again. The kiss is fierce and desperate, and Nines makes a breathless noise into her mouth, tangling his hands in her silky hair, hooking his legs around her waist. The effortlessness with which she holds him up makes him almost dizzy with sudden desire.

            He wants to touch everything, and he can’t touch any of it in this position, but he also never, ever wants to move away from this kiss. The wall is cold at his back, but 2B’s hands are hot underneath his thighs, and he feels sheltered and protected, shielded by her body.

            He nips gently at her lower lip, and her mouth opens, turning the kiss deeper and messier. Their tongues tangle briefly together, and then she draws her lips to the side, kissing him on the corner of his mouth and nipping gently down the line of his jaw and to his throat. Nines whimpers and bucks in her arms, half-frantic to find something he can thrust against, but he’s trapped mercilessly in the air above the ground. He can’t even form words. The suddenness of all this has apparently robbed him of his power of speech.

            When 2B steps back from the kiss and lets him down, he stumbles back against the wall, almost oozing down it. His body’s tingling almost as if he’s already been fucked, except that his entire being seems to be concentrated on the painful heat between his legs. When she reaches out and takes his wrist, he stumbles in the direction she tugs with absolutely no thought other than _please take me now_.

            “Oof,” Nines gasps as 2B shoves him down onto the bed and straddles him, and then the exclamation transforms into a breathless whine, “ _2B_.” She’s rocking against him, and his hips move with her, his erection trapped beneath the constricting cloth of his trousers. She pauses for a moment, face tilted down—she _must_ be looking at him, and he wishes he could see the direction of her eyes.

            “You do want this?” she asks, suddenly hesitant.

            It takes him a minute to process this; he goes still beneath her and stares. She draws in a soft little gasp that sounds almost fearful and starts to get up. Nines has to grab her wrist hastily to catch her, holding her trapped for long enough to regain his power of speech. “What can I _possibly_ have done to indicate that I don’t?” he finally manages to ask in bafflement.

            “We didn’t discuss it verbally,” she says, stiffly. “I didn’t want you to feel you had no choice in the matter.”

            Nines is not used to people asking his opinion. It’s much more common for him to offer it and be told that it’s unwanted. It’s a state of affairs that doesn’t really bother him at this point, although he sometimes wonders why he sees things so annoyingly differently from everyone else. But to have 2B pause to _ask_ instead of wait for him to _say_ —there’s a funny feeling at the back of his throat. He turns his head sideways, suddenly thankful for the thin strip of cloth over his own eyes, hiding any lurking tears, and kisses the palm of her hand. “I definitely, absolutely, positively, one hundred percent want this,” he tells her. “I have _zero_ reservations. I have _fewer_ than zero reservations.”

            The corner of her mouth tilts up. “You cannot have fewer than zero reservations,” she tells him, but she still pauses a little. “Are there things I should or shouldn’t do?” she asks.

            “Yeah, don’t stop, _please_.” He pauses, chewing on the side of his lip. “And, um, if you’re the kind of person who likes giving orders, I, um.” He shifts beneath her. “I like taking them?”

            She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “9S, that—” her voice is shaking a little. “That’s a dangerous proposition.”

            “I really do not mind.”

            “All right,” she tells him. “But if you want me to stop—” she pauses. “—say ‘Anemone.’”

            He nods. “Got it.”

            “Now.” Her voice has dropped half a register, and the sudden hoarseness sends a spike of heat through him. His cock, which had started to flag slightly during the negotiations, twitches back to full attention. She puts a hand in his hair, pushing his head forcefully back against the pillow. “I believe you said something about _orders_ , 9S?”

            He nods eagerly, and her free hand probes at the entrance to his mouth. “Open,” she tells him, twitching her hips against his. Nines moans and bucks back against her as he obediently opens his mouth. “Now suck,” she tells him. She’s still wearing the gloves she uses to enhance her grip on her sword, and he nips gently at the tip before taking two of her leather-clad fingers into his mouth. They taste of oil and metal, and he’s drooling around them before he can stop himself, so hard it’s painful.

            Nines doesn’t have much preference when it comes to the sex or gender of his partners; what he _does_ have is a borderline-fanatical love of something in his mouth, heavy on his tongue. He takes her fingers almost to the back of his throat, lathing his tongue around them and whimpering a little as tingling sensation shoots through his groin and his scalp where her other hand is tugging just a little sharply at his hair.

            2B grinds down onto him, and the weight of her, the warmth of her—he makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat and rocks with her. “ _P’ease_ ,” he moans around her fingers, and she moans back at him.

            “Take—take off the glove,” she says breathlessly. Nines whimpers and obeys quickly, stripping it off, and then the other as she holds out her other hand. He opens his mouth to take her naked fingers back in, and then laughs.

            “Can I call you ma’am _now_?” he asks wickedly.

            “Don’t you _dare_.” She hitches her hips against his, and he gasps and starts to rock back against her. “Don’t move,” she tells him, her voice soft and deadly, and he gasps and forces himself to stillness. Her hands run down his chest and even through the jacket, it’s as much as he can do not to. It feels like her touch is trailing burning embers in its wake.

            “ _2B, please_ ,” he groans, and he feels her undo the buttons of his jacket and open it. His trousers are next, and he can’t stop the jerk of his hips when she frees his shaft from the constricting cloth.

            “Patience,” she tells him sternly, and he whines again.

            “I _can’t_. I can’t, it’s t-too much.”

            Her touch moves away, and he hears the rustle of cloth. His eyes are tight shut with the effort of not moving. Then he feels her hands on him, and his eyes snap open just in time to see her sink down onto him with a single hissing gasp. He can’t help it; his hips buck up to meet hers, a breathless shout dropping from his lips.

            “Don’t move,” she tells him again, and he whines desperately as she leans forward and kisses him, raising herself up and lowering herself down exquisitely slowly.

            “ _2B_ ,” he whimpers. “I can’t, I can’t, _please_.” Somehow he holds himself still, although every single motion she makes sends sensation singing through him.

            “Put your hands on my breasts.” She’s still wearing her dress, and if he could get harder, he would. His heart is racing as he complies, massaging her breasts through the fabric stretched across them, as she continues to move up and down, desperately slowly, breath hitching. Each tiny movement sends heat flaming through him.

            “2B,” he begs. “Faster, please, _please_ —” She keeps up the mercilessly slow pace, and his legs tremble with the effort of holding himself still. “ _Please_.”

            He’s so close, but she’s moving too slowly. Sensation pulses in crawling waves through his body, and he’s shuddering from head to foot. He’s not sure words are going to make it through his lips anymore, and he turns his face to the side and bites his lip to distract himself from the pain-pleasure feeling of being _right_ on the edge, so close—so close—

            “All right.” 2B’s voice cuts through the haze. “You can move if you want.”

            It takes him almost a full ten seconds to parse what she’s said, and he stifles a sob as his hips buck upward, his hands sliding down from her breasts to squeeze at her thighs. Two more thrusts, and his world is dissolving into white heat.

            He’s curled up, face pressed between 2B’s breasts, hands still tight on her thighs. Her own arms form a protective _X_ across his back, her hands cupping the back of his head almost gently. He looks up blearily, and she presses a kiss into the center of his forehead. “You’re beautiful when you—” she pauses. “Well.”

            Nines’ heart skips a beat, and it’s difficult to swallow. “Thanks,” he says awkwardly. “Um. You haven’t—yet—right? What would you like me to do?”

            She pauses for a moment and then rolls carefully to the side. Nines gasps at the renewed brush of sensation, trembling. “Your mouth,” 2B tells him, gently touching her own inner thigh.

            “Can do!” It takes him a moment to stir himself against the lazy warmth tingling through all of his muscles, but he rolls over as well, landing between her knees.

            He starts by pressing kisses up her inner thigh; she shudders and lets a hand drop into his hair. “You don’t need to spend time on foreplay,” she tells him.

            “You don’t mean you want me to be _faster_?” Nines suggests, grinning against her leg.

            2B growls a little and tugs at his hair, and Nines lets her resituate him so his mouth is between her legs. He licks cautiously over her warm, slick mound and is rewarded with a murmured gasp and a twitch of her hips, so he dips his head and starts to kiss her. They settle into a lazy rhythm, Nines mouthing against her, hands braced against her inner thighs, while she moves against him.

            Everything is tingling. Nines is so satisfied and warm that he’s almost sleepy. He alternates between flicking his tongue along 2B’s length and pressing gentle kisses to her, as she makes soft noises and rocks her hips.

            “Close,” she murmurs suddenly. “Mmm—”

            Her hand tightens in his hair, and he flicks his tongue again, letting one hand trail up the inside of her thigh. She gasps, and a single syllable drops from her lips as her knees tighten around his head. Nines hears the hum of buzzing static in his ears, a soft echo of 2B’s climax transmitted by the same circuits that are ping a warning in case a nearby YorHA unit undergoes significant damage.

            He waits until she slumps backwards and then looks up with a grin, wiping off his mouth. “Finally,” he says.

            2B blinks at him. “I apologize if I took longer than—”

            “Oh, shit, that’s not what I meant,” he interrupts, realizing how easily his statement could be misinterpreted. “I meant that you finally called me Nines.”

            It’s hard to tell if the flush on her cheeks is simply leftover afterglow or not. She rolls to the side and shoves his shoulder. “I did not,” she tells him. Nines just keeps grinning at her, until she sighs, leans down the bed, and presses her lips to his. “Just for once, then,” she murmurs, and the grin fades as Nines pushes affectionately against the hand she lays on his head.


End file.
